Filli Romani
by vpen1729
Summary: Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, has lived at Camp Jupiter for almost his whole life. What was it like to grow up as a soldier in the Roman Legion?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer- I do not own Heroes of Olympus**

Juno

The Queen of the Gods watched impassively as the small family- if it could be called such- slowly crossed the wide lawn towards the ruined remains of a once-great mansion.

Even from a great distance, her god's sight could easily pick out the three figures. The daughter of Zeus, a girl of maybe nine years, stuck out from the group like a sore thumb. Her spiky black hair and clothes contrasted sharply with the blond hair of her mother and brother. Juno grimaced at having to use such a word for that awful woman. Although that monster was likely still young, stress and alcoholism had begun to eat away at the beauty that had twice attracted the Lord of the Skies, Juno's husband.

As Juno raged, unseeable by mortal or demigod eyes, the woman tried to take the hand of her son. The blond three year old wailed and squirmed out of her grip.

Juno smiled cruelly. The boy, despite being the spawn of her husband and that_ thing_, clearly had good judgement. She examined him carefully.

He had his mother's blond hair and his father's brilliant blue eyes. A small scar above his lip stretched and his round cheeks dimpled as he smiled at his sister. He was... innocent looking. Young. Impressionable. Exactly the age that Juno would need to take him if he was to become her hero.

True, there wasn't much she could do with a child so young, but the important thing was to get him away from the influences of his mother and that cursed sister of his. If he stayed with his family, that horrid little "Thalia" girl could ruin everything. Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood would collide yet again, no doubt setting the stage for the little brat to make her prophesied decision. And worst of all, Juno would lose her present.

Jason. She crooned the name to herself. Despite the boy's origins, she loved the idea of having a half-blood who would recognize_ her._ As goddess of marriage, she disapproved of demigods in general. After all, they were all, well, _illegitimate_. How exactly does that type of child represent family and marriage?

And she truly loved Zeus. There was no way she would ever cheat on him, so she'd never had any demigod children of her own. There was no one to regularly pray to her, or make offerings, or to honor and remember her. Surely that was a small price to pay for her to allow this little... family to survive?

And little Jason, named after her favorite mortal hero, would be a great hero himself someday. She could see the barest glimpses of what was to come, and though they made little sense to her, she had also begun her preparations. Preserving a life here, a bit of early training there, it all would work out eventually. For her, at least.

She watched as the woman reached the steps of the ruined mansion and paused, turning to her daughter. She said something and the girl looked annoyed. Mrs. Grace repeated herself, gesturing impatiently the way they'd come. Thalia looked irritated but shrugged, clearly acquiescing. She tried to pull away from her baby brother, but Jason clung to her hand.

"Jase, let go," Juno could hear her say. "Come on, cut it out. I'll be right back, I promise. Now let go!"

The little boy started screaming as Thalia pried his chubby fingers off her hands. He kept screaming, tears pouring down his round face as Thalia handed him to their mother and jogged back towards their car.

Juno willed herself to appear to the two. The child was so absorbed in his wailing that he didn't even notice her, but the mother did. Her lips formed the word _Hera_.

Close enough.

She glided towards the mother and child. "He is mine," she purred. "His father has given over his life to me. You will give me the child."

The woman didn't even protest, but passed the flailing boy to Juno, who crooned a sleeping spell. Jason fell silent and lay limply in her arms.

His mother didn't even look at him or bat an eyelash. "He loved me, you know," she whispered to Juno. "He truly did. He wanted_ me_."

Fury flashed pure and strong, and it was followed by disgust. Firstly, how dare a mortal speak to her like that, and secondly, that was what the Grace woman cared about at a time like this? Whether or not she had been good enough?

And she called herself a mother.

Juno managed to control her anger before exploding into her true form. "Perhaps once," she said icily. "But he left you again, did he not? And now I claim your son. Was it really worth it for just a little attention? That seems to be all you care about."

She turned herself invisible once more as the pathetic mortal woman collapsed on the stone steps of the Wolf House. Tears were streaming down her face, but Juno knew better than to think that she was lamenting the loss of her son.

"Mom?" Both women, mortal and immortal, turned at the sound of the girl's voice. Thalia Grace was standing just at the top of the hill, picnic basket in hand. It was clear that she hadn't seen the exchange or Juno, but she immediately focused in on the lack of Jason.

"Mom, where's Jason?" Her voice was urgent, accusing. "You were supposed to be watching him! Did you let him wander off?"

Her mother just rocked back and forth, moaning. Thalia marched right up to ber and gripped her shoulders. "Mom! Tell me right now! Did. Jason. Wander. Off?"

Mrs. Grace wailed, shaking her head. "Gone! Gone! He's as good as dead now!"

Thalia's face was a picture of pure horror. She shook her mother. "Where is he? _Where is he?_ I have to find him!"

"He's dead to us, Thalia! Hera claimed him, and Zeus did nothing to stop her. He's gone." Thalia's mother was regaining control of herself, her voice still bitter but no longer crying. She stood, wrapping a hand around Thalia's arm and starting to pull her back towards their car. "He's gone. I want to leave now."

"_What_?" Thalia screeched, yanking her arm away. "You want to _leave_? We have to find him!" She ran up the steps into the Wolf House, calling Jason's name.

Any small amount of grudging respect that Juno might have had for the girl for her commitment to her brother quickly faded to annoyance. The Grace woman had already said that it was Hera who had taken the little boy, so why could the girl not accept that? Who did she think she was to defy the will of the Queen of the Gods?

It took hours for Mrs. Grace to succeed in dragging her daughter away. Thalia was fighting the whole way, but Juno, ah... helped a bit. She doubted either mother or daughter would notice the force gently shoving them away from the Wolf House.

Finally, the wails and pleading died away and Juno was left alone holding the sleeping child.

He actually was quite sweet when he was asleep. His thumb was in his mouth and his chest rose and fell gently with each breath. With his eyes closed, it was easy to pretend that he was not one of her husband's illegitimate children.

Well, that didn't matter anymore. He was _hers_.

She crossed the lawn, gliding over the broken threshold of the Wolf House. The interior was barren and ragged. It would have been completely empty but for two animal eyes glaring out from the darkness.

"Lupa," Juno said calmly. Throughout the ages, she'd come to quite respect the she-wolf. "I have a new pup for you. A half-blood. He is the son of Jupiter, Jason Grace, and he has been delivered into my service. I wish for you to ready him for the legion."

Lupa's reddish-brown form slunk into the dim light streaming through the collapsed ceiling. She raised her muzzle towards Jason and sniffed him over.

Too young, she said. Too weak to send to Rome.

Juno frowned. "He will grow strong. You have nurtured younger, have you not? He needs only be strong enough to survive the trip to Camp Jupiter. The legion will take care of him if they know what's good for them."

Lupa dipped her head. I can send him on with the next demigod that arrives, she growled. It will ensure that he arrives in one piece.

"Do it." Juno laid the child on the ground and turned away, her business done. Now that the boy had been delivered to Lupa, she could safely leave him until she required him.

At the doorway she paused, looking back over her shoulder. "Grow quickly, my little hero. One day soon you, not your sister, shall be our saving Grace."

She barely heard Lupa's snarling chuckle before she disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

Valentine

Valentine Davies stared at the paperwork massed before her. She had a monster of a headache already, and it was not helped by seeing the enormous workload still lying on the desk she shared with her fellow praetor, Tony.

She leaned back in her chair and massaged her temples. The day had been a particularly bad one. There had been another skirmish on the borders of Camp Jupiter. Monsters seemed to be getting bolder and bolder. Valentine only prayed that the Legion would be able to keep them from overrunning New Rome. She shuddered at the thought of such a bloodbath.

To make matters worse, the minor conflict today had empowered her critics into actually questioning her fitness for command. It was utter nonsense. Valentine knew that they weren't attacking her reputation because they thought she made bad decisions. No, they just didn't believe anyone with her ancestry was strong enough to withstand the pressures of being praetor.

_I've done pretty damn well so far_! she wanted to scream. _You didn't think I was 'unsuited to handle the stress' when you elected me, did you?_

She imagined projecting the face of her main rival and replacement as centurion of the Second Cohort, George, onto the far wall. Her pen soared through the air. Thwack! It stuck point first in what Valentine pictured as George's eye.

"Son of Ceres," she muttered. "As if that makes him so much better than a legacy. Ha, the way he acts, you'd expect him to start claiming he was really a son of Jupiter himself any day now!" As if. There hadn't been a child of Jupiter at camp since the 1930's.

An amused voice broke into her thoughts. "Talking to yourself again? I guess that's fine as long as no one answers back."

Valentine turned, trying hard to keep the scowl on her face. "Tony. Where have you been? You were supposed to help me with the filing today!"

She found that she couldn't keep up the scowl as he leaned down and kissed her."Sorry, I got stuck playing peacekeeper between the cohorts again."

Valentine groaned. "What was it this time?" It seemed like the disciplined, mature forces of the Twelfth Legion couldn't go two days without an army's equivalent of a catfight.

Tony threw himself down in the chair next to her. "Just the usual nonsense, Val. The Third was complaining about always having to be on the Fifth's team, which isn't true, the First was whining that the Second was cheating in the last wargames- Pretty much just the same old stuff. You'd think they would get tired of fighting all the time, or at least be sneakier about it."

"You would know," Valentine laughed, smacking his arm. "Son of Mercury, god of theives. You could probably give them lessons in sneakiness."

Tony looked as if he was taking the suggestion seriously. "I could."

Valentine's smile faded. "Don't you dare, Anthony. I will kill you."

He smirked at her and stood, brushing off his pants. "Well, since I ditched on you with the paperwork, I'll make it up to you. We'll take a quick break, get some fresh air, okay?"

"I wish," she moaned. "There's just so much to do! If anyone sees us slacking off- Well, let's just say George would have a field day."

"That he would," Tony agreed. "But we'll be working. The praetors are entitled to perform surprise inspections of patrols to make sure everyone's doing their duties. And I doubt anyone will notice if we... dawdle a bit."

Valentine considered that, and a smile spread slowly across her face. "That... sounds both productive and enjoyable."

She took her boyfriend's hand and allowed him to pull her out of the hard wooden praetor's chair. She'd often wondered if they been made uncomfortable on purpose, so as to keep any praetor from getting too comfortable in power. It was a very Roman thing to do.

It worked too. She'd always dreamed of being praetor, but now that she actually was, the uncomfortable chair was just one more thing that reminded her that she needed to lay down the mantle of responsibility every once in a while and just... dawdle.

The two praetors emerged into the late afternoon sun, their matching purple capes flapping in the heavy breeze. Before them, spread out like a child's toy fort, was Camp Jupiter. The barracks were bustling with campers coming off watches, going on watches, or just generally lazing around. In the distance, Valentine could see the Little Tiber surrounding New Rome and the distant gleam of marble on Temple Hill. It was beautiful.

The couple strolled confidently past saluting legionnaires, heading for the outskirts of camp. Inspecting the guard on the Caldecott Tunnel was one of the best ways to have some alone time, because so few people actually ventured past the gates of the actual camp. Plus, the walk took long enough that it would be quite some time before anyone noticed they were still missing. You can do a lot of relaxing in such a short amount of time

They talked and laughed as they headed across the lush green fields towards the tunnel's dark opening. Tony hadn't let go of her hand since pulling her out of her chair, and he held it still, even keeping their fingers interlocked while gesturing wildly with both of their hands.

It was at times like these that Valentine could feel her godly blood, diluted as it was by two generations, stir.

She hated that feeling. It was bad enough trying to command respect as a praetor as a woman. It was even worse when people brought up her ancestry. Venus, goddess of love, mother of a bunch of self-absorbed pinheads. Valentine hated, hated, _hated_ being compared to them. She was a fighter, not some stupid Barbie doll. So what if she really, really liked Tony and all the sappy romantic things he always did? It didn't mean anything!

Valentine held her breath as they passed through the tunnel. It was a silly superstition she'd gotten from her mortal father. _Always hold your breath underground. In the dark is where evil things live_.

She took in a deep breath as they emerged into the noise and bustle of the outside world. She'd always marveled at how the magic protecting the camp's borders managed to block out the deafening sounds of two lanes of heavy traffic.

"Sentry! Attention!"

The two guards on either side of the entrance snapped to attention immediately, their spines straighter than a ruler. Everyone knew how picky the praetors were with individuals or small groups. With the whole legion around you, you could get away with a bit of slackness if you were lucky, but if you were one of two guards during a surprise inspection, you'd better have the most perfect composure you'd ever had in your life.

"That's fine, stand down," Tony ordered. "Report."

One of the sentries, a boy from the Fourth Cohort that Valentine was pretty sure was named John, said, "Nothing, sir. Calm all day."

"Good, good," Valentine murmured, focusing on the dark clouds in the far distance. It looked as though a storm was coming. Personally, she really, really hated lightning. It scared the Hades out of her.

She tried to ignore the encroaching clouds and focus on the continuing report that John was giving Tony, but her gaze kept getting drawn back to the dark bank of the storm.

"Tony," she said, interrupting John, "Look at those clouds. Is it just me, or are they moving really fast?"

Valentine's three companions turned to see what they were talking about. "I could have sworn it was totally clear a minute ago," said the second guard, his voice slightly nervous. "Is that natural?"

Before antone could answer, a howl echoed out, so loud they could practically feel the hairs on their arms stand straight out.

"What is it?" Valentine asked, already reaching for her gladius. "A monster?"

The first guard, John, shook his head. "I can't see anything."

They waited in tense silence for the threat to show itself. Then-

"There!" Tony cried.

It wasn't a monster. It was a whole pack of monsters, and some of the nastiest ones Valentine had ever seen. Hellhounds. Great black beasts the size of convertibles, with enormous fangs and eyes like the flames of Punishment.

"Call reinforcements!" Valentine ordered, her voice slightly squeakier than usual. "We must protect camp!"

Tony shook his head. "They won't arrive in time. We need to fall back, get the cohorts into defensive positions. If we take them head-on, it will be slaughter-"

"We don't have a choice." The second guard interrupted. "Look in front of them."

Valentine looked. She could just make out two figures, one large, one small, running for their lives. "Oh gods. They'll never make it."

The fleeing figures were still about two football field lengths away when the horrified Romans just barely saw the larger shape fall.

"Come on!" Valentine pounded straight towards the pack of beasts, the other three hot on her heels. They closed the gap quickly, but not quickly enough. They were still maybe fifty yards away when the first hellhound reached pouncing distance of the downed figure. From this close, they could tell that the one who had fallen was a girl with short brown pigtails, maybe thirteen at the most. Crouched next to her was a little boy with blond hair. He was tugging at her arm frantically, but the girl seemed to be unconscious.

Valentine couldn't even find the breath to scream as the boy turned in time to see the hellhound leap straight at him. Her heart tore in two as she realized that they were too late, that the boy and girl were as good as dead.

Suddenly, there was a flash of light so bright that Valentine waa blinded. Unable to see where she was putting her own feet, she tripped and fell, rolling onto the hard asphalt of the road. Instinctively, she rolled back towards the curb as a car missed her body by mere inches.

She pulled herself to her feet and looked around, fearful of what she might see. To her utter bewilderment, the only shapes she could see through her swimming eyes were Tony, the two guards, and the boy and girl on the ground. No hellhounds. The only trace of the pack was a thin layer of golden dust coating the grass and the child crouching over his fallen friend.

Valentine blinked and rubbed her eyes. "What- Where did they go?"

Tony just shook his head, gaping, and the two sentries seemed too stunned to move or speak.

Seeing how incapacitated her companions were, Valentine stumbled forward and fell to her knees beside the girl. The little boy across from her looked up solemnly, and she noticed that he had striking bright blue eyes, and a maturity that she'd never seen in a child so young.

"Is she dead?" he asked, his tone serious.

Valentine bent down, pressing her ear to the girl's chest. "She's breathing."

The little boy looked relieved. "She fell."

"I saw. Are you okay? Did the he- did the dogs hurt you?" She knew it was their official name, but she felt guilty saying _hell_, which was technically a swear, in front of a little boy.

"No. I ran fast." The boy glowed with pride. "We're going to camp. Have you seen it?"

"Camp Jupiter?" Tony clarified, seeming bemused. "Both of you are going to Camp Jupiter?" Valentine understood his confusion. Why would a boy who looked to be maybe four years old come to Camp Jupiter?

The birght blue eyes flashed up to Tony. "Lupa said to come here and they would take us. Em'ly said they'd have food. Do you have food? I'm hungry."

Valentine smiled at him comfortingly. "We have some at camp, okay? What's your name?"

"Jason."

"Hi, Jason. I'm Val, and this is Tony. You said this girl is named Emily? Is she your sister?"

Jason shook his head. "No. Tal-ya."

Valentine wondered if she had misheard. "Tal-ya? What's a Tal-ya?"

"No, _Tal-ya_."

"Oh, sorry," Valentine said, having heard absolutely no difference but having no time to discuss it. "Jason, I need you to think hard. When Emily fell, did she hit her head?"

Jason's brow wrinkled. "She got mud in her hair," he offered.

She could vaguely see Tony and the others poking at the golden remains of the monsters out of the corners of her eyes. "Jason, do you know what happened to the monsters?"

The little boy laughed. "Boom!"

Valentine smiled at his description. "Yup, big boom." She stood, then reached down to help Jason to his feet. He felt way too light, and she remembered what he'd said about being hungry. When had these two last eaten?

She gently lifted the unconscious girl, draping her limp form over her shoulders. It was more difficult than it seemed, as the girl was a lot bigger than Valentine.

"Tony!" she called. Her boyfriend immediately came over and slung an arm over his own shoulder, taking off some of the weight. Valentine was glad that she didn't even have to explain what she needed.

Thus arranged, they began the slow trudge back up to camp. Valentine, Tony, and Emily led the way, closely followed by John carrying Jason. The other guard kept an eye out for any more monsters behind them.

They broke through the tunnel, limping along more quickly now that safety was in sight. The one time Valentine glanced back, she saw that Jason's mouth was a perfect 'O' of wonder. His eyes were as round as saucers.

The watchmen on the gate quickly spotted them and called out. Thankfully, medics were soon swarming out of the gate with a stretcher and medical supplies.

"As soon as she wakes up, call us," Tony instucted the medics. "We'll probably be in the principia. It doesn't look like we'll be getting a lot of sleep tonight."

There was a wolf-whistle at his comment and both praetors turned bright red.

"Way to take it the wrong way, guys!" Tony yelled.

Valentine just rolled her eyes. She turned to Jason, who'd been shadowing her ever since John released him. "I need you to come with us and tell us everything you can, okay?"

Jason smiled and took her hand. Valentine felt a warm glow in her stomach. She'd always wanted a younger sibling.

She led him towards the principia, Tony trailing behind.

Inside, Jason looked even more awed by the fancy mosaics and velvet hangings. He was quiet as Valentine moved her own chair over from the other side of the table.

Jason literally had to climb up onto the high wooden seat. He shifted once or twice, and complained, "It hurts my butt."

Tony chuckled. "You say that now. Wait until you have to sit in it every single day."

Valentine silenced him with a look and smiled reassuringly at Jason. "Honey, do you live with your mommy or your daddy?"

Jason frowned. "My mommy. Tal-ya says she's no good. She drinks too much. I tried drinking her soda once but it made me sick and Tal-ya said don't touch it again."

Valentine felt a wave of sympathy. Pretty much all demigods could relate to family problems. A drunk mother wasn't too far out of the ordinary. "So, uh, Tal-ya is your... sister?"

The blond head bobbed up and down. "Is she here? Lupa said if I want to see her I have to get big and find her. I'm bigger now."

"Are you really?" Tony asked, amused. "How old are you, Jase?"

The little boy frowned and held up his fingers as if counting. "I'm... four. Four years old. My birthday is really soon."

"So you're turning five?"

Jason looked at him like he was crazy. "I'm turning four. I'm four."

"So then you're actually three turning-"

"It's not important," Valentine interrupted her partner. "But you said that Lupa sent both of you to join the Legion?"

"Yep. Lupa says we're Romans. What's a Roman?"

"Someone really cool," Tony answered. "Will you give us a second, buddy?" He pulled Valentine aside.

"Val, this is nuts. He's just a kid! We can't put him in the legion!"

She sagged against the wall. "Lupa sent him on. I don't know if we have a choice."

Her boyfriend stared at her. "He'll be killed!"

"What else are we supposed to do?" Valentine asked wearily. "We could ask a family in New Rome to take him in, but that might anger Lupa. She's always been very clear; she sends the demigods, we read the auguries and put them in the legion. She wouldn't send this kid on if she thought he would die. If he was too weak, she would have just abandoned him without ever sending him to us."

Both praetors stared at the little boy. "Think he's something special?" Tony asked.

She shook her head. "I have no clue, but the only thing we can do now is consult the auguries. If we aren't supposed to put him in the legion, then the gods will guide us."

Tony reluctantly agreed, and walked back to Jason. "Hey buddy," he said, ruffling the kid's blond hair. "We're going to go meet someone, okay?"

Jason slid obediently out of the seat and each praetor took a hand, leading him towards Temple Hill, where it would be decided whether he was to join the legion, be given to a family, or- worst case scenario- killed.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N- Thank you guys for reviewing! It's really hectic right now, so I'm not doing much. I had a practice ACT and it's hell week (technical term referring to the week before performances) for my school's play. I don't know why I'm telling you, I doubt you care. Anyways.**

**Disclaimer- I do not own PJO**

Valentine

With every step she took into the temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, Valentine found herself growing more and more afraid. There was a very real possibility that the augury could turn against Jason. She'd heard of recruits being rejected before, but luckily there hadn't been any during her praetorship. She didn't think she'd be able to stand having blood on her hands like that.

Surely the gods wouldn't ask her to murder a child? If they thought him weak, they would let him live in the town until he was stronger, right?

Their footsteps echoed on the polished marble engraved with the great prophecies of the ages. Above them, the polished gold dome gleamed like a second sun.

Valebtine felt Jason's hand slip from hers. "Wait!" she cried as he ran forwards.

Jason ignored her and stopped in front of the great statue of Jupiter that dominated the hall. He stretched up one hand and gently touched the hem of the god's robes. Was it just Valentine's imagination, or was there a faint rumble of thunder?

Tony ran forward and pulled the boy back. "Hey buddy, no touching. You have to be good here, okay?" Jason squirmed under his grip.

Valentine joined them, peering around. The temple was deserted. "Where's Laura? She's always here. I didn't think you could drag her away from her auguries."

"Usually you can't," Tony said with a grin. "Unless, of course, you hide her entire stock of beanie babies..."

She stared at him with horror. "You didn't. I thought you said you were breaking up fights!"

"I was!"

"And the beanie babies hid themselves?"

"Well, no, but I really was keeping the cohorts from tearing eachother apart-"

"And playing childish pranks while I was doing the work!"

"C'mon, Val, I'm really sorry about that."

"Sorry? Oh that's just wonderful! That really makes up for the four hours I was stuck inside with those-"

Valentine was suddenly unable to continue her rant due to Tony's lips pressed against hers. She leaned into the kiss, her irritation melting away.

When they broke apart, Valentine noticed that Jason was making a disgusted face. "Yucky!"

Tony smirked at him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I bet you'll be such a player when you're older, Jase. All the girls will be after you."

Jason looked horrified.

Valentine placed a hand on Tony's arm. "Be good."

"I am!"

Before the argument could really restart, they were interrupted by the sound of slow, rather dramatic, clapping. They turned to see a tall girl outlined against the sinking sun.

"Wow," she said in a deep voice. "I'm really impressed. Not only did I get to see a lover's quarrel between our own two praetors, but I find out who stole my sacrifices and get to see you two playing babysitter. My life is complete." She apread her hands wide open in an exaggeration of angelic contentment.

Valentine smiled despite herself. "Hey, Laura. Sorry about this idiot stealing your teddy bears. If you want, you could gut him instead."

Laura smiled, the skin around her eyes crinkling with amusement. "You really shouldn't offer that if you don't mean it, Praetor. I might just take you up on it." She pulled a wicked dagger from its sheath and gently carressed the blade.

Tony gulped. "Okay, plans to murder me aside, we need an augury. Two demigods arrived today and we need to know if they may join."

Laura lit up. "Really? Two in one day?" The whiteness of the teeth showing through her grin was almost blinding in contrast to her coffee-colored skin. "Is it my birthday or something?"

Valentine rolled her eyes. "Just murder some cuddly bear already. We all know how much you love that."

The auger harrumphed but magically produced a stuffed bunny with an almost horrifying expression of cuteness. "I'll need to know names," she reminded them.

Tony pulled Jason forward. "This is Jason. The girl who was with him was named Emily."

There was a brief silence in which Laura looked between the praetors, waiting for the punchline. "You're kidding, right?"

Valentine frowned. "I know, but Lupa sent him, so we're not sure what to do. We really need to know what the gods wish. I'd rather give him to a family in New Rome, but if the gods have some sort of plan for him..." She trailed off. They all knew the consequences for those who stood in the way of the gods. Getting slit open like one of Laura's stuffed animals was the least of your worries.

Still, Laura was unconvinced. "He's practically a toddler! He'll be completely useless to the legion, and probably get killed too!" There was a rumble of thunder, but the girl was not deterred. "Look, I say we don't even bother. Just put him somewhere and come back when he's seven. Who cares what his fate is-"

There was a boom like an airplane going supersonic. The entire temple shook from the strength of the thunder. Dark clouds began to form overhead, covering up the sky.

Laura scowled. "That's not how I meant it. All I was saying was that it won't do anyone good if he gets killed in training."

Slowly, the thunder ceased and the clouds began to dissapate. Tony shook his head.

"You augurs get away with so much more than everyone else. If I said that, I would just be a pair of smoking converse right now."

Jason tugged on Valentine's hand. She bent down so that he could whisper into her ear.

"She's scary."

Valentine laughed out loud, causing the other two to stare at her. "You're completely right. Crazy, too."

Laura's chocolatey eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You talking about me or your boy?" Tony looked oddly pleased at her description. Apparently he liked the reminder that despite their many arguments, he was hers and she was his.

Gaah. Stupid Venus genes. His smile probably had nothing to do with that. Valentine _so _didn't need the mushy-gushy stuff ambushing her while she was trying to keep the camp's only augur from being turned into a crisp.

"Look, Laura," she sid firmly. "As praetor, I order you to do the augury. I don't want him to be hurt any more than you do, but it isn't up to us."

Laura looked defiant for a moment before sagging. "Fine. But you know I can't do the girl's without her present. I'll just do the kid's."

"Jason!" the kid in question interjected.

Laura placed a hand on his head as if blessing him before turning to the altar. She placed the fluffy rabbit on the table and slit it open with one firm slash. Stuffing spilled out of the gash, and she seized it, discarding the skin.

While spreading the fluff with one hand, she chanted, "Dominus Apollo, placere dirige nos et utrum Jason Grace est dignus servire Legio."

Valentine's mind unconsciously translated the Latin to English. _Lord Apollo, please guide us and determine whether Jason Grace is worthy to serve the Legion._

Valentine couldn't see any discernible pattern in the clumps of fluff, but Laura studied them the way a general studies a battle plan. After a long moment, she turned back to them, her face grave.

"It is decided," she said in a monotone. "Jason Grace has passed the auguries. He is to be a member of the Twelfth Legion Fulminta. Senatus Populusque Romanus."

"Senatus Populusque Romanus," Tony echoed, seemingly on autopilot.

Valentine tried to swallow down her dread. "Senatus Populusque Romanus. We'll assign him a cohort at muster... Laura, the- the girl is still unconscious, but I'll send her up when she awakes." She patted the other girl's shoulder. "We can't argue with the will of the gods."

Laura looked distraught. "We shouldn't have to. I just pray that they know what they're doing."

"We all do," Tony said quietly. "Val, we have to go. Muster will be any minute now."

Valentine squeezed Jason's hand and he looked up at her, clearly not understanding why everyone was upset. "C'mon, Jason. Let's go to dinner."

* * *

A Roman Legion truly is an inspiring sight. The Twelfth Legion was even more impressive than most. Unlike the common soldiers of the Ancient Roman legions, every camper was equipped with an Imperial Gold weapon that glittered in the evening sun. Horsehair plumes were regulation straight, and armor gleamed so brightly that Valentine almost felt blinded.

Next to her, Tony shouted, "Legion! Attention!"

As one, every member of the five cohorts stomped into position. Centurions called roll and each legionairre responded as their name was called. At the front of the First Cohort were Max, son of Mars, and Aaron, son of Mercury. Leading Second Cohort was Valentine's old enemy, George, and a daughter of Minerva named Savannah. Third Cohort's centurions were Thomas and Eliza, twin children of Fides, the Roman goddess of loyalty. Heading Fourth Cohort were two daughters of Apollo, Jen and Eva, and last but not least, leading Fifth Cohort, the losers of Twelfth Legion, were Fred and Walt. Fred was a son of Sterquilinus, who was literally the god of manure. Walt... Well, Walt had the distinguished reputiation of being the only son of Bellona who managed to stab himself in the foot evey time he used his pilum.

Valentine found herself unconsciously assessing each of the centurions. Who could she dump Jason on? It was a heartless way of thinking of it, but it was true. She doubted that any of them would be enthusiastic about having such a little kid in their cohort.

Laura came up to her side as the Lares, the camp's ghosts, fell in and cried, "Colours!"

The lion-skin cape clad emblem bearers stepped forward. Valentine couldn't help the habitual wince as the empty pole meant for the eagle was raised. It hurt her Roman pride to see the empty place of honor.

Finally, Valentine was able to step forward and speak.

"Romans! Today, two demigods arrived at camp. They were chased by an army of hellhounds which were mysteriously destroyed, but not before one of them was injured. The wounded girl is in the infirmary, and once she is better her augury will be read. In the meantime, there is a special circumstance that I wish to discuss with the centurions!"

The legion grumbled and shifted nervously as the centurions made their way to the front. Although they knew that this was out of the ordinary, Valentine doubted that anyone had noticed Jason standing a little behind Tony. Yet.

"What's wrong, Val?" Max asked, brushing his damp hair out of his eyes. Apparently the First Cohort had been working really hard, because both he and his partner were positively drenched in sweat.

Valentine waited until all the centurions were gathered tightly enough around her that no one would be able to hear what she was saying. "As you might have heard, there were two demigods who arrived this morning. The first is obviously the girl in the infirmary, but the second... might be a bit of a problem."

Fred looked terrified. "The- It's not the augury, is it?"

Tony looked as nervous as Valentine felt. "No... Well, actually, yes, but not in the way you're thinking. The demigod, Jason, was accepted into the legion, but he's sort of, um, a bit-"

"What? What's wrong with him?" Valentine reflected that only George would consistently interrupt an explanation to demand the answer that he would have gotten in about two seconds.

Her fellow praetor didn't look particularly annoyed. His brow was too creased with worry. Finally, he sighed. "Jason, can you come here please?"

Slowly, the blond boy eased himself out of hiding and stood awkwardly before the ring of teenagers.

There was a silence.

The only sounds were the rustlings and clankings of the still waiting legion. Valentine wondered if the others were even breathing.

Jason seemed to realize that everyone was staring at him in a not-very-nice way, because his chin came up defiantly. His bright blue eyes traveled over each of the staring centurions, unafraid and challenging.

George began to laugh. "You two can't seriously be crazy enough to try to put some wimpy little kid in the legion?"

Jason's eyes flashed but he didn't say anything.

Instead, Laura spoke up. "The augury said he was to be in the legion. It is the gods' will."

Which, Valentine thought, was a clever thing to say. George wasn't suicidal enough to challenge the gods.

The son of Ceres seemed to realize the futility of arguing the point as well. "Well, if the gods say so, then they know best. But you are not sticking him in my cohort. We've got a reputation to uphold, and we don't need some kid running around in diapers."

Valentine frowned. "First of all, I don't care about your _reputation_. Secondly, I wouldn't even consider putting him in your cohort. He needs to be somewhere where there are _good_ fighters so that they can watch out for him."

"That'll just make trouble," protested Jena, one of the Apollo girls from the Fourth. "He'd be the weakest link. Put him in the Fifth. People already know it's just a bunch of losers, and the kid might actually be on level with some of the legionairres." Her voice was intentionally cruel, and poor Walt flushed beet-red.

"W-w-we'd take h-him if you w-wanted us t-t-to, V-val. W-we aren't j-j-jerks like F-fourth. We'd l-look after him." Walt's stutter, ever present, did not detract from the relief coursing through Valentine. Thank the gods _someone_ would accept him.

"Fine," she said. "I'll announce it. Return to your cohorts."

They scurried away.

Valentine glanced at Tony, who smiled reassuringly but quickly returned to his former look of worry.

Thanks. Nice to see the support, there.

She turned back to the impatient Romans. "It is decided! The new recruit, Jason Grace, shall join the Fifth Cohort! Jason Grace, step forward!"

Jason hesitantly took a step forward. As the legion realized that he was the 'new recruit', they broke into a roar of jeers, whistles, and moans. One soldier's yell stood out. "Look at 'im! Think he's missin' his mwommy?" Valentine really hoped that the legionairres were too far away to see the slight wobble of Jason's lip.

Laura tried to shout over the noise. "I have read the auguries! Jason Grace may join the legion!" There was only one or two _Ave's_. People were having too much fun mocking him to really follow the ceremony.

Fred, the most senior centurion, took it over from the augur. "Recruit! Do you have any letters of reference?"

Jason look confused. He glanced at Tony, who shook his head.

"No," Jason said, so quietly that Valentine could barely hear.

"Very well. Will the Fifth Cohort accept this recruit?" Fred asked, with a pointed glare that suggested his cohort had better accept him or else.

There was a half-hearted banging of shields on the ground.

"My cohort accepts him!" Fred said loudly.

Tony nodded at him and turned back to Jason. In a powerful voice, he spoke the traditional phrases of welcome. "Congratulations, Jason Grace. You stand on probatio. You will recieve a tablet with your name. In one year's time, or after you complete an act of valor, you will become a full member of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata. Serve Rome, obey the rules of the legion and defend the camp with honour. Senatus Populusque Romanus!"

The legion echoed him faintly, clearly much more interested in finally getting to dinner than in welcoming the newest probatio.

As soon as Valentine gave the word, they hightailed it for the mess hall, leaving only Jason, the praetors, Fred, and Walt behind.

Walt swallowed. "N-n-nice to meet y-you, Jason."

The three-year-old soldier smiled slightly at him.

Valentine spoke up. "Listen, I'm not crazy. Jason can be on a special schedule. He won't participate in war games until he turns seven, and he can attend school in New Rome during some of your more difficult training excercises. Other than that, he'll live with you guys, eat with you guys, and get basic training with you guys. Once he's bigger, he'll be a regular member of the legion."

Jason pouted. "I am big."

Fred held one of his palms flat to the top of Jason's head, then drew it towards his own body, measuring. "Sorry kid, you're not even up to my waist."

Jason looked up at him, brow furrowed. "They don't like me. They think I'm too little," he said quietly. No one seemed to know what to say, but he continued more strongly. "I'll get bigger. But I won't laugh at the little kids. It's not their fault."

Fred smiled, wrapping an arm around Jason's shoulders. "You're all right, kid. With an attitude like that, you'd have my vote for praetor."

They started towards the Fifth's barracks, with Walt trailing behind. It was really comforting, Valentine thought, that he would have a sort of family. Maybe it was best that he was in the Fifth. Since they were always being told that they were bad, they didn't have anything to prove, unlike the other cohorts who were always trying to boost their own egos by putting others down.

Still, it might be a good idea to keep an eye on him for his first few days. Just in case.

* * *

**A/N- Sadly, no one from SoN is in camp at this point, so it's all going to be OCs. The next chapter... I wish I could do it in Jason's PoV, but I don't think I can. Sorry. Will probably jump forward a couple of years in the chapter after next.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer- I don't own PJO**

Fred

Fred never had so much sympathy for his mom as during Jason's first few days at camp. It wasn't that the kid was trouble; Jason was probably the best behaved new camper that Fred had seen in years. He dealt with the brand new camp and the knowledge that his traveling companion had not yet awoken with a maturity that even some thirteen year olds didn't have.

No, it was the simple fact that, as hard as it is to deal with an ADHD, dyslexic, monster-attracting twelve year old, it's even more difficult to deal with an especially hyper, sweet little four year old that you have to somehow keep from getting himself killed.

Fred had already had to stop Jason from falling in the Little Tiber and drowning, running into Jupiter's temple and getting vaporized (he really wasn't sure why the kid even wanted to go there), and getting in the way of the elephant, Trajan, and getting trampled. The worst part was, it wasn't even lunchtime.

Fred remembered how strict his own mom, a farmer in western Kansas, had seemed growing up. Now, he wondered if her apparent crossness hadn't been a product of constant stress and worry. It didn't matter much. She'd been dead for four years, since Fred was thirteen.

Still, he kept her in mind as he tried to force himself to be patient with Jason."Mars, the god of war is- are you listening, Jason?- is the patron god of Rome. However, he isn't the biggest god. That's Jupiter."

Jason stared at Fred with an expression of complete incomprehension. "Who?"

"Jupiter. Jup-it-er." Fred sounded out the word carefully, but Jason didn't seem to have any better of an understanding. "He's the king of the gods? Lord of the sky? You might have heard of him by his Greek name, since mortals seem to know that name better. In Greek, he's Zeus."

Jason's eyes lit up. "Tal-ya told me about him!" He grinned to himself as though at a happy memory.

Fred remembered what Valentine had told him; 'Tal-ya' was apparently Jason's sister, in all likelihood another demigod. Especially considering she'd taken the time to teach her three-year-old brother mythology.

"What did she tell you about Zeus?"

Jason giggled. "He's tall."

For a moment, Fred wondered if he'd misheard. Jupiter was tall? Okay, then. "Well, I guess he is the sky god, so maybe she was thinking of that. Anyways, Zeus' real name is Jupiter. The Twelfth Legion is his personal legion, and he gave us a really awesome golden eagle for our emblem that was supposed to have awesome powers."

"What did it do?" Jason asked curiously, unaware that Fred was extremely uncomfortable.

He almost didn't answer. He didn't want to burden Jason with the guilt that every member of the Fifth carried around sooner or later. But he could either tell Jason now, or the kid could get it thrown in his face by someone from another cohort.

He sighed. "No one really knows. It went missing in the eighties. A guy named Michael Varus from the Fifth took a quest up to Alaska and was completely crushed. Pretty much everyone who went died, and the eagle was lost."

The bright blue eyes were as wide as saucers. "The Fifth? But isn't that us?" He seemed unable to comprehend the fact that his cohort, his new friends, were vaguely responsible for something so horrible.

Fred nodded slowly. "That's one of the reasons people don't like us much. They sort of blame us, even though none of us were even here yet." Which, Fred thought, was really not fair. Then again, since when has prejudice ever been fair?

He noticed that Jason was playing with his lead probatio tablet and squirming as if he was having trouble keeping still. After having been in a bunk full of ADHD demigods for almost five years now, Fred recognized the signs of a major hyper-fit looming on the horizon.

"Hey, Jase, we should probably head out now. The rest of the cohort is probably at training, and it's no fun to stay cooped up in some dusty old classroom when you can be playing with weapons, am I right?" Okay, so maybe Fred wasn't the best role model. So sue him. It was the Fifth Cohort, after all.

He quickly corralled Jason into the open air. It had rained earlier, and though the ground was wet and muddy, the slight breeze felt good after being inside all day trying to teach Jason about all the gods. Somehow it had become Fred's responsibility during Jason's first few days at camp. Fred wasn't exactly upset by it, as he knew it wasn't Jason's fault, but it was a bit annoying that he wasn't able to keep up with the other legionairres in his cohort.

Right now, for instance, he knew that Walt would be attempting to lead the cohort in sword drills. Hopefully attempting would not include stitches, but Fred had to admit that the odds were against it. Walt was his best friend, but he was an absolute menace on the battlefield. Fred still wasn't entirely sure that Bellona hadn't mistaken Walt for one of her children and claimed him on accident. He couldn't fight, he didn't strategize, he wasn't very aggressive... Walt had none of the traits of a child of war.

And sure enough when Fred arrived, Walt's big round face was pouring with sweat and pale as death as he clutched at his knee. Fred ran forward, completely forgetting about Jason behind him. All he cared about was what his idiot best friend had done now.

"Walt!" he called. "You okay, man?"

The possibly-misclaimed son of Bellona glanced up quickly and forced a smile. "Fine." he wheezed. "J-just a n-n-nick." The stutter wasn't as bad as it had been when he'd tried to speak up in front of the other centurions. In all honesty, it wasn't really a true stutter. It sounded more like Walt was drawing in multiple short sharp breaths in which the sound of a letter was just barely audible.

He relaxed a bit as one of the girls of the cohort bandaged the knee quickly and professionally.

Jason came puffing up to his side, having only just caught up with him. Fred felt a bit guilty. He should have known that Jason's shorter legs would make it difficult to keep up. That much had been obvious the one time that they'd tried to get him to march with the rest of the Fifth. The closest he'd been able to come to a march without falling behind was a funny sort of skip every third step. It wasn't in time with the others, but Fred and Walt had an unspoken agreement to give him a break.

Fred ruffled his hair. "Okay, kid. Do you want to take a seat over by the edge of the arena?"

"No," Jason said sullenly. "I want to fight like everyone else."

Walt, having overheard this conversation, shook his head. "N-n-no. It's all sw-sword drills a-and s-s-stuff. Blades. N-not a g-g-good idea." His normally ruddy face was still pale from his most recent self-inflicted injury, but he looked determined. Fred could understand why; Walt was probably the best example of why it was a bad idea to put a blade in untrained hands. A kid as small as Jason, assuming he could even lift a blade, wouldn't have the coordination to handle it safely. He'd probably end up chopping of his toes or something, and Fred was pretty sure that this would lead to _his_ toes getting chopped off by an enraged Valentine.

That was one experience he could live without.

Still, Jason would have to learn sometime. Why not begin today? He was already energized, and the look on his face was possibly even more stubborn than Walt's.

Fred made his decision.

"Follow me, kid. We'll start with these." He stooped, snatching up a couple of thick sticks from underneath a nearby oak and stripping them of twigs. When he was done, he had two approximately gladius-length sticks. He tossed one to Jason, who caught it easily.

Maybe the coordination thing wouldn't be that big of a problem.

"Okay," Fred said to Jason. "Now, I'm going to show you some basic defensive moves, some of the first stuff every legionairre learns. First, look at your, er, sword. Make sure that you aren't holding it too tight. If it's a death grip, you won't be able to get all the force or maneuverability you need. But you don't want it too loose either, because then it will get knocked out of your hands..."

It took a solid ten minutes of swinging and adjusting Jason's grip before Fred was satisfied. Sure, it might have just been an old stick, but it was good to get into the habit of holding it correctly. Finally, Fred pronounced Jason's grip acceptable.

"Right. So now, I'm actually going to swing at you. It won't be full speed or full strength, but it will still hurt a bit if you get whacked. I want you to block it like this." He demostrated the move. "You might get pretty tired, but I want you to really push yourself so that we know how much you can do. Ready? Block!"

The sticks smacked together. Fred could tell that the impact, despite all his efforts to pull the blow, nearly made Jason topple over backwards. He managed to right himself quickly enough, his little brow scrunched in concentration.

"I'm okay," he gasped. "Again."

This time, Jason braced himself and caught the weak blow without losing his balance.

"Again."

It continued this way for another quarter hour. Fred would aim soft blows at Jason, who would defend. Fred was certain that the three year old- four year old? Hadn't Tony said his birthday was some time soon?- had to be getting tired. The sticks, while light to Fred, would seem heavy to Jason since he was unaccustomed to using a sword at all. He decided that they would call it quits and rejoin Walt with the rest of the cohort after one more repetition. He drew back the stick, making sure that Jason was ready and braced. His arm began to draw the makeshift sword around in a controlled arc, aiming for the flat of Jason's blade, when suddenly an unseen force yanked back on the stick with enough strength to spin Fred around like a ballerina. He fell on his behind, completely disoriented.

When the dizzyness cleared, he realized that the training arena was filled with malicious laughter. He raised his head slowly, already knowing that it wouldn't be anyone in the Fifth who would be laughing at him.

Like he'd suspected, the snorts were coming from the entrance of the arena, where half a dozen or so figures clad in the armor of the Second Cohort were holding their sides. Visible among them was an all-too-familiar head of bristly hair.

Fred glanced at his fallen stick. His worst fears were confirmed when he saw that it hadn't, as he'd thought, been yanked away by a mischeivious soldier. Instead, it had almost instantaneously sprouted lassoing roots that wrapped themselves around the trunk of the parent tree. Fred knew exactly who had the power- and the inclination- to mess with him like that. A certain bristly-haired son of Ceres who was bent over with laughter in the entrance way, his centurion's badge flashing in the light.

"Real graceful," George called mockingly. "Exactly what you'd expect from a stercore caput!"*

Fred's fists clenched. Everyone knew that the real reason George hated Valentine wasn't that she was a legacy. Nor was it because she was praetor or because she'd been his predecessor as centurion. No, the real reason was that she had friends (such as Fred) in the Fifth, and George Lind _hated_ the Fifth.

Fred wasn't entirely sure why. There were rumors, of course, but he wasn't sure if he believed them.

George's lip curled as he surveyed the Fifth Cohort. He scanned across the frightened faces until his gaze rested behind Fred.

"Well, check it out. Fifth Cohort's newest recruit."

Jason had been playing with his stick during the previous conversation, but now he looked up as he realized that George was talking about him.

The older boy continued, "Yep, I bet you're really happy, eh Walty? Now you're not the only baby."

Fred rocketed to his feet as both Jason and Walt turned bright red. "Shut it, Lind!" he yelled. "Everyone in the Fifth is worth ten of you guys, Jason and Walt included."

George glared at him. "You shut it, stercore caput. Considering you're dad is the god of crap, you shouldn't be talking."

Fred wanted to die as he heard himself retort squeakily, "He is _not_! He's a god of agriculture!"

Great. Now he sounded whiny and embarrassed. George would jump on this weakness and keep at it until he died of humiliation.

George seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he sauntered towards Fred with a satisfied smirk on his face. "Well, agriculture boy, if that's true, why do you stink of manure all the ti-"

Whatever he was planning on saying was interrupted as Jason pushed past Fred and kicked the son of Ceres hard. From his angle, Fred thought it seemed like Jason was aiming for the shin. Unfortunately, George had flinched backwards as the kick came near, and it connected somewhat... higher.

George folded neatly in two as another peal of laughter broke out. This time, though, it came from the Fifth Cohort. Even Walt and Fred joined in, each placing a hand on one of Jason's shoulders as the little boy giggled to himself. Fred couldn't help thinking that either George was just really unlucky, or Jason must have had some divine help to connect with that _particular_ place so cleanly.

_Thanks, Dad._

Meanwhile, on his knees, George glared up at Jason. His face was so contorted with fury that Walt and Fred instinctively used their grips on Jason's shoulders to shove him behind them and out of the danger zone.

"Move," George snarled.

Walt shook his head jerkily. "N-no." He trembled slightly in the face of George's rage, but stood firm.

This apparently angered George even more. Fred was certain that at any moment vines were going to pop out of the ground and strangle all onlookers, when George froze. Slowly, a smile spread across his had seen George smile before, and it was always a cunning, awful thing. But this was different. He didn't look like he was plotting. He looked... blank. Evil.

His voice was calm as he turned to Fred. "Move aside, centurion. I wish to speak to your recruit. This is a _request_." A slight inflection to the last word implied that if Fred didn't move, it would no longer be just a request. He drew in a deep breath and stepped sideways just enough for Jason to peer around him.

George bent down to the boy's level, smile still in place. "Well, Jason Grace. I don't think we've been introduced, really. My name is George. Unlike you, my Olympian parent, Ceres, cared enough to claim me." All campers present flinched. At some point or another, they all knew what it felt like to be unclaimed. George ignored the mass reaction and continued, "I am Second Cohort's centurion. Do you know what that means?"

Jason shook his head slightly, clearly nervous.

George's smile got wider. "That means that any legionnaire who assaults me will be severely punished- in fact, what's the precedent again, Walty?"

Walt turned red again. "Y-you m-m-monster. H-he just g-g-got here. He d-didn't kn-know!"

"That's right," George said, as if Walt didn't exist. "Fifty lashes or expulsion from the legion. Bit outdated, but very traditional."

Fred got up in his face. "He's four! That could kill him!"

George raised his hands. "You should have taught him better. But- Well, I don't want to see the widdle baby get hurt, so I'll give you a compromise. I don't go to the praetors, if-" he paused for effect. "Widdle Jason fights me. One on one duel with your little sticks. After all, if one of the Fifth Cohort is worth ten of us, even the newest recruit should be able to handle _one_ of us."

Fred felt sick. This was beyond cruel. He knew that in the duel George wouldn't be able to seriously hurt Jason, but the little boy would end up humiliated one way or another and probably have minor injuries anyways. However, both of the alternatives were death sentences for such a young kid. And he, Fred, would have to decide to let Jason be publicly humiliated. He hated himself.

"Fine. That is, if Jason is okay with it." All eyes turned to the blond boy, who nodded.

_Don't do it!_ Fred wanted to shout. _We can go to Valentine, explain things!_ But he knew it wouldn't work. The praetors couldn't show a preference for any one cohort.

George waved his hand and the remains of Fred's stick jumped into his palm, the roots retreating.

"Come on," he sneered at Jason. "Show everyone that you're not a baby."

The boy advanced nervously, stick at the ready. Fred cursed himself for allowing this. Jason didn't know a single offensive move! The only block they'd worked on was for the most basic move ever, nothing that an experience fighter like George would use!

George waited until Jason was within a foot or two before striking. His stick whistled through the air towards Jason's left side.

_Smack!_

Somehow, Jason managed to get his own stick in the way in time to take the blow. He kept his balance this time and shoved George's weapon away.

The son of Ceres narrowed his eyes. He stepped forwards, jabbing at Jason. Once again, the little boy managed to parry it away. George kept increasing his attacks, and Jason began losing ground. A blow hit the side of his calf and he cried out quietly. Another blow to his sword arm.

Jason backed away, slipping and sliding on the wet grass.

"Coward," George called. "A _true_ Roman would stand his ground."

Jason froze. Fred saw him plant his feet firmly, and expression of determination on his face.

George came after him, giving him a couple more bruises. Finally, he managed to get inside Jason's guard and smack the stick right out of his hand. Jason was weaponless, defenseless.

"Stop, George!" Fred yelled. "You win, okay?"

He was ignored. George sauntered up to Jason and looked him over once before laughing. The following blow wasn't exactly a kick; rather, George placed on foot on Jason's chest and shoved hard enough that the kid overbalanced and fell into a mud puddle.

His opponent was really laughing now, looking down at the little boy dripping with mud and water. "Pride of the Fifth Cohort, aren't you? I guess that just means you're twice as worthless as the rest of them!"

In retrospect, he really shouldn't have said that.

* * *

**Cliffhanger-ish.**

**Okay, so do you guys know what sucks? I have later chapters completely written out, but I have writers block on what to put in between them. Grr.**

**Also, any suggestions as to important events in Jason's life that I should include? Here's what I have:**

**-his companion waking up (see ch. 2)**

**-getting his tattoo (1 year mark)**

**-participating in war games for the first time**

**-getting his sword**

**-Reyna arriving**

**-quest to kill Trojan sea monster (see Lost Hero, Aeoleus mentions it)**

**-meeting Nico di Angelo**

**-meeting Hazel**

**-all the friends mentioned in HoO (Reyna, Bobby, Gwen, Dakota, Hazel)**

**-storming the Titans' base (and becoming praetor)**

**Any that I'm missing?**


End file.
